


Flannel Nights

by dietpunkfics



Series: Thermal Dreams [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietpunkfics/pseuds/dietpunkfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s these phone calls he hates most, the ones where the warm body laying next to him presses a kiss to his head and leaves him behind. Companion piece to Thermal Dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flannel Nights

Years of being on call has trained him to wake up anytime the phone rings. It’s these phone calls he hates most, the ones where the warm body laying next to him presses a kiss to his head and leaves him behind.

He never knows how long Gibbs will be gone, or where he’ll be. Sometimes he’ll get lucky and it’ll be a day, the longest time apart he was even luckier and was able to go visit him in Florida for a weekend. 

Thankfully, Gibbs doesn’t have to go into a war zone often, and when he does, it‘s not for long. He knows that now, although there have been times where he’s had to fly overseas for training. That had also been the first time Gibbs came home injured - his heart had jumped into his throat and nearly choked him as Gibbs told him of the IED that had exploded too close, and the car accident that had resulted.

He never thought he’d be so grateful to see a broken finger, black eye, and concussed lover in his life.

Gibbs had told him before he wanted to leave the Corps, had looked him in the eye and all but asked him for permission. That was when he knew it wasn’t right - that there was no way he could let Gibbs do it. The Corps just meant too much to him, and when (he can’t bring himself to think if, it’s easier if he just plans on it happening) they went their separate ways, at least Gibbs would still have the Marines. Gibbs had insisted that he was more important than the Marines, and Tony had head-slapped him. 

The accident changed everything. He’d come home from work to find a bruised and battered Gibbs waiting at his apartment, dinner on the table with a pile of boxes by the door. He didn’t think it was actually possible for the man to look nervous, but that day had proved him wrong. It was then that he finally started to get it, that he started realizing that Gibbs was in it for the long run, and that maybe, just maybe, he needed to stop doubting _himself_.

Deep down, he’d always thought that Gibbs would be the one to leave, and that maybe he’d be better off keeping his distance.

The first time Gibbs had to leave, he had woken him up, and _apologized_. Tony stood around and watched as the other man packed a bag, understanding how hard it was for all the families he works to protect as they watch their loved ones go off to war. He’d spent the week snapping and snarling at work, checking his phone constantly to make sure that he hadn’t missed any calls. At night, he’d pulled on the most comfortable, worn shirt and pair of flannel pajama pants Gibbs owned, and slept on the couch, hoping he’d be woken in the middle of the night by Gibbs walking through the door. The second week had finally brought a phone call, and halfway through the third, Tony was woken up at two am by Gibbs walking in the door.

Since then, it’d become his tradition to wear the same shirt and pants every night until Gibbs came home, safe and in one piece. The night of the accident, Tony had taken the pilfered clothing off and washed it - he hasn’t made that mistake again. It hadn’t taken Gibbs long to figure it out, and Tony always knew he’d been called back to duty anytime he found the shirt on the kitchen counter, next to a quick note.

Waking up to an empty bed was never a pleasant experience, but finding the note and shirt on the countertop was a guarantee he’d be in a foul mood all day.

_Home Sunday. Reservations are tonight at 7. Take Abby instead._

Gibbs’ scrawled note reminds him that it’s their anniversary today, and he resists the urge to crumple up the note and throw it away. Instead, he’ll fight to get through the workday, and try to keep the snapping to a minimum. He takes Abby out for dinner, and spends the rest of the weekend curled up on the couch losing himself in mindless action flicks while wearing his lucky shirt.

Sunday night, he nods off a bit early, and when he wakes up at close to 3 in the morning, he finds Gibbs dozing in the god awful green chair by the couch. The other man’s head is tilted forward, and he’s smiling in his sleep as he watches over him. 

Tony can’t help but smile back; he’s too relieved that Gibbs is back to be irritated at the fact that he’s been gone all weekend. He knows that Gibbs has missed him, and he’ll probably spend all day Monday making it up to him. Although, he should probably wake him up - there’s no need to cause Gibbs to be crankier than usual just because he’s got a sore neck. 

It has nothing to do with the fact that their two bodies entwined keep him warmer than any tattered shirt ever will - Gibbs hangs on to him as though he’s a lifeline as they sleep. The couch abandoned, he taps Gibbs on the shoulder before sleepily leading him upstairs by the hand, stopping at the bathroom to take care of business before stripping down and crawling into bed, enjoying the warm body pressed against him. The other man presses a soft, dry kiss against his lips, and mutters promises about how he’ll make it up to him, causing Tony to smile.

He’s looking forward to it.


End file.
